


waiting for the end

by fluteandguqin



Category: Block B
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Captivity, Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gang AU, Gen, Torture, Trauma, bastarz mvs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 18:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20086417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluteandguqin/pseuds/fluteandguqin
Summary: Hands bound to the chair, Jihoon's head hangs low. His usually slicked back hair now falls into his eyes messily. He knows that everything so far was just the beginning and he knows what's coming.He looks up and smiles at his captor. "Looks like we'll be here for a while," he says, because he knows his silence will protect his friends.And one thing's for sure, Jihoon isn't giving up Minhyuk and Yukwon.





	waiting for the end

**Author's Note:**

> original AU by @genhuxsolo on twitter  
idea used with permission

“Sh-it,” Jihoon said, and with each syllable more blood came pouring out of his mouth.

He looked up. The room was spinning. He couldn’t count the men in front of him; were there five or fifteen? His ears were still buzzing from the most recent punch.

He smiled, showing his blood-stained teeth. “Is that the best you can do? I thought you guys were like—professionals.”

“Hit him again,” someone said.

Jihoon couldn’t see him now, but he knew the man to be a blonde, with annoyingly blue eyes. A flat face and a thin nose, a square and sharp jawline. His name was Logan.

He was furious, understandably so. Because after hours upon hours, countless punches, a broken arm, a shattered kneecap and a gushing slice running up his thigh, Jihoon hadn’t given away a thing.

And he had no intention of doing so.

He would die here, Jihoon had accepted it.

It wouldn’t be the painless, easy death they’d all hoped for, in a villa on a remote island that they own. Yukwon, Sunhye and their dogs. Minhyuk and Jihoon pretending that they hadn’t been dating for the past ten years. High and happy, counting their money and celebrating their long lived lives.

It was something nice to hope for, unfortunately not very realistic for the business that they were a part of.

Jihoon could only hope for Minhyuk and Yukwon to be smart. He wasn’t ratting on them. But they needed to grab what they could and _run_. Get in contact with their allies, live to fight another day.

Jihoon knew they hated running, but they needed to be smart about this. Jihoon _prayed _for them to be smart about this.

His head flew back, and this time Jihoon just kept it there, staring up at the ceiling and the single dusty light bulb that was hanging by a thread from the concrete, illuminating the space with a yellow hue.

His nose was broken at that point. It was making it just a little difficult to breathe.

_I’ve been through worse_, Jihoon lied to himself. He needed to keep repeating such things to keep himself going.

Logan was getting impatient. He stepped forward, gently lowered himself into a crouch in front of Jihoon, resting his elbows on his knees for balance.

“We can end this right now if you just give us the location. Come on, Jihoon, we’re old friends. Your life’s worth more. Just tell us where they are, and you can go. Better yet, you can get in on the job. You know you could make so much more with us than your little gang.”

What a sweet voice Logan had. Jihoon imagined himself ripping out his tongue, so he could never speak again.

He slowly lowered his head, to look at Logan’s beautiful, spotless face. Jihoon visualized it vividly, the blood pouring out of his mouth, him choking on it as he clawed at his neck, eyes wide and frantic.

Jihoon nodded. “You’re right.” Blood trickled down his chin as he spoke. He held in a cough, it would’ve ruined his dramatic timing. “My life is worth more.” He sniffled. “I give up. Just make it stop. I’ll tell you everything.”

He sniffled again, shutting his eyes tightly.

Logan smiled. He stood up, straightened his blazer. “See. We could’ve avoided all of this.” He reached out, although he was having a hard time finding a part of Jihoon that wasn’t bloodied or filthy, so he ended up giving him the tiniest tap on the shoulder. Logan immediately called for a handkerchief.

“Why don’t you tell us, now. I know this is hard for you, but giving us the location of just one hideout won’t cut it. We need to know about your safehouses, your allies and their bases. Can you do that?”

Jihoon nodded. He sniffled again. Let out the tiniest sob. He thought it would be convincing.

Logan was celebrating too early. He loved feeling like a savior, a shoulder to cry on, even if he was the one to make the person cry in the first place.

“Let’s start slow.”

Jihoon muttered something under his breath. He had told Logan to go to hell in Korean, but Logan couldn’t know that.

“What was that love?” The man asked, stepping forward again.

Jihoon looked up at him with big sad eyes and tried to convey with a nod of his head for Logan to get closer.

He clenched and unclenched his fist, set his jaw impatiently, but did so nonetheless. He put his hands on his knees and bent down, for Jihoon to whisper in his ear.

Just as Logan was starting to lose the last bits of his patience, Jihoon bit down on his ear with all intention of ripping it off.

Logan wailed and stumbled backwards with both hands on his ear.

Jihoon grinned. He spat on the ground and yelled, “Suck a cock, scum! You think I’d ever—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence. A thin plastic line closed around his throat and went taught, slowly cutting into his skin while cutting off oxygen. It was more painful than lethal, like everything so far had been.

He wheezed, shut his eyes. He started to get dizzy.

Logan had been cursing in pain, but now he yelled, “Let go! Gwen let him go!”

The line from around Jihoon’s neck disappeared and he gasped for air, coughed out blood, gasped some more, his ribs aching with every breath he drew.

When Jihoon’s eyes started working again, he saw Logan holding a white cloth to his injured ear. He was squinting at Jihoon, stalking from one side of the room to the other like a jaguar in a cage.

Gwen, the woman in charge of the most gruesome parts of extraction, walked over to her table with tools. “I can make him talk,” she assured while rolling the thread back into a neat loop. “There’s so much we haven’t tried yet,” she spoke while smiling maliciously at Jihoon.

He smiled right back.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Logan hissed. He threw the cloth at the closest henchman. He called over a different one, to help him get his blazer off. He loosened his tie and slid it off.

“You can have another go in a few hours, but…”

On his way over, Logan unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. It was another henchman’s job to catch it mid air.

“...I’ll take over for now.”

Jihoon wished he was truly brave. He wished his stomach didn’t drop, that his heart didn’t rise into his throat. He wished he didn’t think about death, hoping for his body to give out before Logan got to lay his hands on him.

But he did. He wasn’t brave. And yet no one in the room had to know that.

He threw his head back, locked eyes with Logan and smiled. “Bring it on.”

* * *

The concrete was cold. Jihoon’s back ached, as well as his head, from lying on the hard surface.

In reality, a little bit of soreness from lying on the ground was the least of his worries, but this is the sensation Jihoon chose to focus on. He had to, in order to tune out all the other aches.

Jihoon wouldn’t even try to run diagnostics on himself. He couldn’t think. He only knew that he’d spent an hour being kicked and punched and stepped on, had his head slammed against a wall for good measure. He’d had hours of riling his enemies up return to him in the form of a ruthless beating. Not systematic torture he’d grown accustomed to during his hours of captivity. Simply haphazardly thrown hits, only for Logan to get his anger out.

Jihoon had no regrets though. It was worth seeing Logan’s rage, knowing that Jihoon was driving him insane. It was worth laughing in his face while he so desperately tried to hurt Jihoon.

That’s just the thing with hostage situations, isn’t it. The only way to truly hurt Jihoon was to get to his friends. But him being there, getting punched and maimed was what was protecting his friends. Therefore, he didn’t mind. He could laugh.

And yet it still hurt. Only when he was alone, when Logan, Gwen and their henchmen withdrew, leaving two guards behind to watch over him, only then could Jihoon let himself be in pain.

Tears trickled down his face, vertically as he lay on his side. He didn’t care if the guards saw. He didn’t care if they laughed or decided to have a go at him as well. He only wanted to appear tough in front of Logan, that was all that mattered.

Jihoon’s eyes slid closed. He began sinking into nothingness and the sensation of losing himself was a soothing one. Whether he was falling asleep or dying, he didn’t know, but he didn’t care. Either was good enough at the moment. Down and down he went, slowly, until—

_BANG._

The door unhinged, flew into the wall with a devastating noise that left Jihoon’s skull trembling. However it was the explosion that had made his ears ring. He thought he’d heard laughter after the it went off, but he’d then gone temporarily deaf, so he couldn’t tell.

Jihoon opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, at the single light bulb that was still shining. His mind was slow to process what was happening.

He heard gunshot, but it sounded miles away.

Before he knew it, there was a hand on his shoulder and Jihoon tried to sit up on instinct, at which point he was overwhelmed with pain from all over—the shoulder that had been grabbed, his caved ribs and god knows what other internal damage.

“Hey, hey,” someone said, a voice Jihoon knew well. “It’s just me!”

Jihoon blinked up at the figure, his sight confirming what his hearing had told him. His eyes widened in disbelief and despair. _“No..”_

“What? You didn’t think we’d leave you here, did you?” Yukwon asked. He was _smiling_, that lunatic.

“No, you can’t be here,” Jihoon said, his voice coming out weak and quiet.

Yukwon may not have heard him at all, because he simply continued, “Listen, I know it hurts, but I’m gonna have to lift you up and—probably drag you because, we _really_ need to move. Sorry in advance!”

With that, Yukwon pulled Jihoon up, into a somewhat standing position, as much as his mutilated leg allowed him. Jihoon bit down on his bottom lip, so hard it drew blood, but he didn’t want to let himself wail pathetically now. He needed, to the best of his ability, to help Yukwon get him out of there.

But before they moved at all, Jihoon heard another pair of footsteps and in the next moment his entire body burned, because someone had carelessly thrown their arms around him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” the person spoke once they heard Jihoon’s ragged breathing.

And despite all that torment, once they pressed their forehead to Jihoon’s, he knew of no worries.

“You’re crazy,” Jihoon choked out. “You shouldn’t have come. You’re so stupid.”

Minhyuk smiled. “Hey. If you go down, I go down with you, remember?”

Jihoon laughed. So did Minhyuk. Every chuckle mixed with a sob that Jihoon let out felt like every muscle in his body being torn apart.

“_Fuck_, you guys are idiots,” said a third voice, Jiho’s. “We have to _go_, move it! You can make out later!”

Despite Jiho’s very urgent warnings, Minhyuk took the extra second to kiss Jihoon’s nose, before they even began to figure out how in the hell to drag him out of there when he could hardly stand. Once again Jiho presented them all with an answer, as he came over, thudded his gun into Yukwon’s hands and picked up the entire Jihoon and threw him over his shoulder.

This time, Jihoon didn’t manage to stop himself from crying out and, as soon as his lungs decided to function, he gasped for air.

“Sorry,” was all Jiho said. After he started moving, Jihoon no longer knew what was going on. He kept his eyes closed, hoping for it to lessen the pounding in his head.

He heard more footsteps and overjoyed yelling to his right.

“_Did you see that? Did you see it!? _It was _epic_!” After being told off, this new person, who Jihoon recognized to be Taeil, still delightedly said, “You’re right, it wasn’t my best work, but it got Jihoon out.” And they kept on running.

At least it appeared that Minhyuk and Yukwon did get in touch with their allies, but instead of doing anything smart they went on a suicide mission.

Every step Jiho took was another stab into Jihoon’s abdomen, but he couldn’t complain since he was being rescued… Hopefully. Jihoon didn’t mean to be pessimistic, but he couldn’t help wonder what the odds were for all of them to survive this mess.

It was with this thought that Jihoon finally let go. The rest of his thoughts jumbled together into an incoherent bunch of cotton that filled his brain, until it slowly seeped out through his ear and left him with nothingness.

* * *

When Jihoon opened his eyes, he saw the same yellow light bulb from the room he was being kept in. The same concrete ceiling, the same pool of moist in the corner.

And then he blinked, and the mirage disappeared. He blinked again and began to make out the white painted ceiling, a square of light stretching across the surface.

A silhouette.

A voice.

_“You’re okay.”_

Arms closed around him, one going under his shoulders and the other under his head and Jihoon winced, bracing himself for a squeeze that would surely bring him pain.

But it didn’t come. His head was gently cradled to someone’s shoulder, pulled into an embrace so careful that Jihoon was left unharmed.

“I’m not sure about okay…” Jihoon said, and he was startled by the hoarseness of his own voice. “But I’m here.”

He was let out of the embrace, gently placed back onto the pillows behind him. That was when he managed to have the first proper look at Minhyuk. His hair was messy and his eyes were bloodshot. He hadn’t slept. But he was smiling with what Jihoon recognized as relief.

“And you’re not going anywhere again,” he said, with a hand on Jihoon’s cheek. He continued to stroke Jihoon’s face, skim his hair, trace his cheekbone, all the while being mindful of the multiple bruises and cuts littered all over the younger’s face.

Suddenly, involuntarily, Jihoon’s eyes filled with tears at the thought of having made it out alive and somewhere next to it, the thought of being back by Minhyuk’s side.

But that feeling of security and peace lasted only for a second. In the next moment, Jihoon was attempting to sit up, frantically asking, “Where are the others? Are they okay? Is anyone hurt?”

Every attempt of Jihoon’s was futile thanks to Minhyuk, and if it wasn’t for him, Jihoon would have hurt himself even more with those attempts. Minhyuk made sure he stayed down; he cupped Jihoon’s face and hushed him.

“Hey, hey, calm down. Everyone’s okay. They’re here, they’re fine.”

“Yukwon—Sunhye—” Jihoon choked out.

Minhyuk shook his head. “Both fine. Stop fighting me.”

Jihoon didn’t think he could. He had no control of his breathing, of his body. It ached all over, his left arm was mostly immobile as it was in a cast, every single movement hurt, yet he couldn’t stop.

Minhyuk had to hold him down while trying to guide him into taking deep breaths.

It took a while, but Jihoon was in control again. He looked up at Minhyuk, with the same tears from before pitifully forming in his eyes.

“You shouldn’t have come for me. God, what were you thinking? You all could’ve been taken, then what would the point have been? We all would’ve suffered the same faith and—”

“But we didn’t,” Minhyuk cut him off. “We’re a bit smarter than you think.”

Jihoon hated Minhyuk’s carefree smile, how he lightheartedly booped Jihoon’s nose. He hated feeling like he was the only one falling apart.

“_Smart_ is not what I would call what you’ve done,” Jihoon spat.

Minhyuk’s smile fell. “We had to get you. I—_we_ weren’t going to leave you there.” He went quiet. His gaze was unfocused; Jihoon couldn’t tell what he was looking at, if anything at all. He only absentmindedly stroked Jihoon’s hair.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get there sooner. It took time to organize everything, for the others to arrive.” Minhyuk closed his eyes. “I was ready to just go after you on my own, but I knew it would have gotten us both killed. Still, I’m sorry it took so long.”

How Jihoon wished to be able to reassure Minhyuk. But now that he was hidden away, now that he no longer had to feign bravery, he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t wish to have been rescued earlier. Rescued or killed. He just would have wanted the pain to end, somehow.

He only gave an unconvincing, quiet, “It’s okay.”

“But you’re safe now,” Minhyuk continued. “The others are too. Everything will be okay.”

Jihoon clenched his jaw. “No it _won’t_. The cunt is still after us, we’re not _safe_—”

“We’re working on it,” Minhyuk said quietly, yet decidedly. Jihoon wanted to trust him. “I promise, we’ll work it out. You can rest now, Jihoonie. I’ll be here.”

For a moment, Jihoon couldn’t look away. He couldn’t shake off the worry, he couldn’t shake off the need to see his friends, to make sure they’re alright; to join in on the action, to make sure everything was sorted out.

But he was tired.

He was exhausted and he ached all over.

He only wanted to rest.

He relaxed into the pillows and nodded.

“Okay.”

He nodded again.

“Okay…”

He closed his eyes. The bed dipped and he felt lips on his forehead. Jihoon’s lips curled into a tiny smile.

“Minhyukkie?”

The elder hummed in response.

“You’ll never hear the end of this.”

“Don’t flatter yourself Jihoonie,” he said, lightly pinching Jihoon’s cheek. “I’m only being nice to you because you’re injured.”

Jihoon closed his eyes and somehow, he was able to smile, carefree. He was happy that at least things between them hadn’t changed.


End file.
